Any Shape or Form by Elizabeth Daly Read Free Book Online Page A

five. It’s five thirty-five now.”
    â€œWhat of it?” Drummond’s sunburned face was frowning. “What is it to you how long I’ve been there?” He added: “Plenty to see in a garden, even at this time of the year.”
    Mrs. Drummond came through the gate from the Loop. She had a few red and white carnations in her hand. “Nothing but these in the place,” she said, “nothing at all. Oh—you found something, Walter. Good. We might ask Johnny for a few. Ours are so poor.”
    Drummond replied: “Johnny hasn’t more than enough for himself.”
    â€œHave you been picking pinks all this long time, Blanche?” asked Gamadge.
    â€œLong time? What do you mean? It wasn’t long, was it?”
    â€œHe’s got some game,” said Drummond, “timing us all.”
    Cora Malcolm came slowly down from the upper grounds, past the end of the rockery. There was a croquet mallet in her hand; she was swinging it. When she was abreast of the entrance to the rose garden she paused. “Anybody want a game?” she asked.
    â€œHave you been up in the tool house all this time, Miss Malcolm?” asked Gamadge, turning to look at her.
    â€œI sat on the steps after I got out my lucky mallet, and had a cigarette.”
    Blanche cried: “You’ve lost your gold pin, Cora!”
    Cora glanced down at her left lapel. “It does seem to have fallen off,” she said. “The catch was old and loose.”
    â€œNo wonder you look terrified! Your stepmother will have a fit,” remarked Blanche, arranging her carnations.
    â€œI can find it. I know where I’ve been.” Cora did not look terrified, but neither did she look happy. All her ironical gaiety was gone. She faced the entrance to the rose garden. “I really must,” she said, “see that Apollo thing.”
    Gamadge said: “You see it now, Miss Malcolm.”
    â€œWhat a horror. I must see it close.”
    â€œDon’t think of going into the place.”
    She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Verboten?”
    â€œI might almost say polizeilich verboten.”
    â€œMan’s crazy,” said Drummond. “He has some game on.”
    â€œPerhaps he thinks the place is uncanny,” said Cora, gazing in at the statue. “It ought to be.”
    Redfield came through the gate from the Loop, his basket overflowing with marigolds. He shut the gate behind him and latched it. “I don’t know,” he said, “why none of you can close a gate. A gate is supposed to be meant to keep things out, you know; and this one actually does do something about the rabbits.”
    â€œI won’t shoot rabbits for you, Mr. Redfield,” said David Malcolm, who now sauntered through the gate from the flower garden. “I love the bunnies.” He was carrying a bunch of wild asters.
    Gamadge was looking at Redfield. He asked: “Where’s Abigail?”
    â€œWent around the Loop. Wanted a stroll.”
    â€œHow long ago?”
    â€œMy God,” said Drummond, “he’s at it again.”
    Redfield said that Abby had only been with him a minute or so. “She ought to be back any time now.” He looked from Drummond to Malcolm. “Well!” he exclaimed. “I must say I’m obliged to you for those flowers. And so will Alice be. But I’m under a double obligation to you, David, because you shot me a couple of crows. I saw them hanging up.”
    Blanche Drummond said: “I shot one of them, Johnny.”
    â€œGood! All that target practice wasn’t for nothing, then. I’m glad to know it. One’s peace was shattered all summer, but not in vain. Where did you get those asters, David? They’re a lovely blue.”
    â€œI got them down by the swimming pool.”
    â€œMighty thoughtful of you. Where’s your stepmother?” He swung about to take in the emptiness of the farther